Aemond hardly went to Sept. Not unless his mother made him go with her. But then once when he was kneeling next to his mother he saw her.

Kneeling in the other side of the stone circle his mother always prayed by. With her hair glowing in the light of the candles.

Pretty slim face with freckles and big eyes, her head always tilted down. She was young. No older than his sister and maybe two years younger than him. Calm little creature looking almost like a scared doe.

Gods be good he thought to himself as he kneeled there staring as you hurriedly walked to the candle circle fixing your veil. He stared in disbelief as you tucked the silver strands under the fabric.

A bastard. A dragonseed.

His gaze wandered around your face, veil, hands. Whatever he could see. His uncle’s bastard or perhaps his father’s if he had enough strength to even walk after he fathered Daeron. You were kneeling there, big eyes closed, looking vulnerable and sweet. His cousin or sister.

She’s a Septa for Seven’s sake, he cursed mentally. Bringing his hands to his lips. Most pure creature in the Kings Landing, so far away from the place she was fathered. After all Street of Silk was on the other side of the city.

He inhaled as his mother stand up smoothing his shoulder as she left silently leaving him to his prayers. Or maybe to his inner struggles. His gaze landed on your gorgeous face.

“How many other Septa’s know you’re a Valyrian bastard?” He asked starring at you with his single eye.